


all the good girls go to hell

by MacademiaNutPie



Series: A Mask Of My Own Face [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fuck yeah new part, Gen, Hallucinations, Hearing Voices, Nausea, Only took me two months, Possesion, Repetition, of days I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacademiaNutPie/pseuds/MacademiaNutPie
Summary: [Standing there, killing timeCan't commit to anything but a crimePeter's on vacation, an open invitationAnimals, evidencePearly gates look more like a picket fenceOnce you get inside 'emGot friends but can't invite them]
Relationships: None, boffy x severe mental issues
Series: A Mask Of My Own Face [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929001
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	all the good girls go to hell

**Author's Note:**

> haha possession go brrr

Boffy stares at the ceiling.

He’s contemplating something, but he’s not entirely sure what it is. 

He feels dizzy, disoriented as well. 

It takes him a moment to get up, noticing how heavy his body feels. Boffy sat up, staring out the window for a solid minute, as if he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

“What ti-?” He winced. Speaking hurt, his throat dry and sore. Boffy slowly seemed to get out of bed, his movements careful and much less aggressive. He feels as if he’s dragging behind him a corpse, weighing him down. Boffy feels empty. 

He rolled over, standing up and running a hand through locks of brown hair that were slightly tangled just to untangle them a bit. He doesn’t fix it completely, he doesn’t need to. He tightened the string on the mask he was wearing, tying the black string twice. 

Boffy went to grab the sword that usually rested against the wall near his bed, finding it on the floor instead. He looked for the flint and steel, finding it on his bedside table instead. He doesn’t remember putting them there, but doesn’t question it.

Looking around the room, he straps a leather baldric over his shoulder, slipping the sword into it and fiddling with the flint and steel he held in his hand, just to feel the textures. 

Boffy walked out of the room, down a set of oh so familiar stairs. He feels like he’s been here before, but doesn’t seem to understand. He brushes the feeling off, kneeling down in front of an oak wood chest, pushing it open and rummaging through the items. He took an axe, pickaxe and some other items before slamming it closed. 

He let his body take him out the door, feeling cold air hit his frame. He didn’t seem to care however, as small animals jumped out of the way and walked along a path. He had walked a couple minutes before he saw his vision blur, a burning feeling building up at the back of his throat. He leaned against a tree, covering his mouth with a hand. 

Boffy took a few seconds to calm down, pushing back the sudden urge to vomit and continuing to walk. His fingertips are cold, it hurts to move his hands at all.

He groaned, pushing at a branch to help himself stand up straight, walking by trees until he saw bits of sand blend into the grass in the forest-

Boffy stares at the ceiling.

He’s contemplating something, and he knows what it is.

He jumps out of bed, shaking his head as if to clear it and looking around. 

Boffy’s breath picked up pace, scrambling to his feet as he tried to collect his thoughts. He slid a hand over his mask, the cold of the porcelain waking him up just a bit. 

His vision blurs in and out as he looks around again, glimpses of a tall shadow catching his eye. As soon as he tried focusing on it, it seemed to vanish. 

He stared at the spot where it’d been.

Boffy’s head hurt. He sat down on his bed again, running fingers through his hair and untangling the knots in it. 

Boffy reached into the drawer of his bedside table, pulling out a worn down down flint and steel. He stuffed it in his pocket, slowly getting out of the room and- 

He doesn’t stare anymore.

He jumps out of bed, all calm gone out the window as he backs against a wall, having grabbed the sword that rested against the wall. He held it up, looking around, “What the fuck?” He whispers, rubbing his temples. 

“Hello.”

Boffy growled, “Fuck off.” He hissed. He heard the disembodied voice talk, not paying attention to what it was saying, his body growing warm as the pain in his head worsened. 

“Stop it.” He mumbled, closing his eyes as he slowly slid down, his knees sliding up to his chest. 

“Aren’t you the guy Tommy left behind?”

Boffy scoffed, not replying. 

“I thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

He looks up.

“No one else would willingly live in the hell you’re in, Boffy.” 

Boffy looked confused, “How do you know my name?”

A hand is outstretched towards him, pale and freckled. The arm connected to it has faint, dirty blonde fuzz on it. “You want some help?” The figure asked. “You look like you might use a friend.” 

Boffy didn’t think. He couldn’t, more specifically. 

He reached for the hand.

It was pulled away at the last second.

**Author's Note:**

> my discord is macademianutpie#5710, as always, glad to fill the Boffy tag again.


End file.
